


250,000,000

by SerpentineJ



Category: The Closet | 클로젯 (2020)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:42:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24601795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: Sangwon pays Kyunghoon back, over weeks of bought lunches and adjusted invoices.
Relationships: Heo Kyunghoon/Yeon Sangwon
Comments: 5
Kudos: 11





	250,000,000

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: gh ....... they were very sweet DSLDKFJSLDKFJ
> 
> i took some liberties w the invoice bc i CANT read the handwriting to put the text into google translate . me: illiterate but there were 4 charges: 25m, 25m, 50m and 105m. Since the first two’s charges were the same i assumed they were for baiting the spirit with the bloody dolls and then the 50k .. was either for kyunghoon getting stabbed on the job or kyunghoon saving sangwon from the evil dad.. and then the 105k is for sending sangwon to the underworld

“Can we discuss my payment now?” Kyunghoon says immediately when Sangwon picks up the phone, chewing gum loudly through the speaker. Sangwon winces and holds it away from his ear.

“Do you have to do that?” He says. He drops the sheaf of paper he’s been fiddling with and leans back in his desk chair. 

“Request compensation for my gainful employment?” Kyunghoon says.

“The gum.” Sangwon replies.

Kyunghoon laughs through the phone. It’s a laugh unique to him, a facetious puff of air out from his windpipe, casually amused. Sangwon can imagine his too-wide smile.

“Hold on,” Kyunghoon says, and there’s a scraping noise, like a chair being dragged across hardwood, and the metal clang of a wastebasket. “Better now?”

“Much.”

“You’re too picky. Loosen up.” Kyunghoon chatters. “But not about my payment. Do be diligent about that.”

“I told you to revise the invoice,” Sangwon says, even though the price Kyunghoon had named hadn’t been out of his range. He had promised him as much as he’d wanted, after all, and Sangwon isn’t exactly broke. 

“And I did, after much, much thought.” Kyunghoon complains. “So can I send it to you? Do you want to meet, or should I mail it? Are you busy?”

Sangwon glances out the window.

\--

“You’re early.” Sangwon says.

Kyunghoon looks up. He’s sitting on a bench outside the restaurant that Sangwon had asked to meet at. At seeing him, he slaps a hand on his knee and brushes off his coat, standing.

“I should accommodate the client.” Kyunghoon says. “Even if the client hasn’t paid me yet.”

He flashes a boyish grin. It comes to his face unbidden, as fast as a lightning strike, as though out of habit. 

Sangwon gestures, and they head inside.

“Do you come here often?” Kyunghoon says, rambling like he usually does, the words falling out of his mouth as lightly as rose petals. “Or, I guess it’s still a new area for you, so probably not yet. Is it far from your house?”

“Yes, yes, and no,” Sangwon says. He pulls out his own chair and sits down. “I’ve come here a few times, but not often. It’s only a few blocks away.”

“So that’s why you’re early,” Kyunghoon says.

“Yes.” Sangwon lies. “I was planning on coming out anyways to take a lunch break.”

Kyunghoon eyes him suspiciously. Sangwon raises his eyebrows.

“What?” He says.

“Are you sure your new house isn’t haunted too?” Kyunghoon says. “Workaholics don’t take lunch breaks.”

Sangwon rolls his eyes. 

Kyunghoon is still looking at him oddly.

“Is there something on my face?” Sangwon says, after a moment. “We haven’t even eaten.”

Kyunghoon glances at the table – Sangwon realizes he’s laid out utensils for himself, like usual, and then he’d passed a set over the table to Kyunghoon.

“Oh.” Sangwon says, taken aback. “It must be a habit. I usually don’t eat out with anyone but Ina.”

Kyunghoon smiles. The lady who owns the shop comes over with a cart, two metal bowls balanced on its surface.

“So,” he says, picking up his chopsticks with one hand and sliding a yellow envelope across the table with the other. “About my fee...”

\--

Sangwon usually doesn’t have nightmares. Aside from the time he had seen Kyunghoon’s shaman mother, he hasn’t dreamed much, ever since he was little. It’s something he’d been glad for after the accident, even if his imagination manifests that scene on the road as panic attacks while he’s awake instead.

Usually he’s so tired he doesn’t have any trouble falling dead asleep. Tonight, he stares at the ceiling, the reflected glow from the streetlamps outside bleeding through the edges of his curtains and playing out across the plaster. His lunch break had left him feeling surprisingly energized.

Why had he invited Kyungsoon out to eat?

At the restaurant:

“You didn’t revise anything,” Sangwon says. “All you did was give the charges different names.”

“That’s the going rate for exorcisms.” Kyunghoon says, waving a dumpling at him from between his chopsticks. “Can’t beat market price, especially with the best exorcist in town.”

Sangwon looks at him. Kyunghoon shrugs.

“A man’s gotta eat,” he says.

“You seem to do a lot of eating.” Sangwon deadpans, sliding the envelope back across the table. “I’ll pay for your meal today, then, because I’m still going to ignore this.”

Kyunghoon laughs. It seems to be the answer he’d been expecting, because he tucks the envelope back into his pocket and continues with his meal.

In his bed, Sangwon turns over restlessly. 

\--

The next invoice is sent to their house through the mail, about a week later. Sangwon is knee-deep in a new design project. He barely has time to rifle through the mail in the afternoon, tossing the junk, until a familiar yellow envelope catches his eye.

Sure enough, it’s from Heo Kyunghoon. The address is one he doesn’t recognize, from a part of town about half an hour away.  
He opens the envelope – the titles of the charges have been changed back to what they originally were, and the fee for Sangwon’s venture into the underworld has graciously dropped from 105,000 won to 100,000.

Sangwon smiles before he can help himself.

“Did you think sending it by mail would make me agree?” He says into his cell phone.

“A guy can hope.” Kyunghoon says, sounding busy. There’s the noise of running water, and a shuffling, as though he’s holding his phone in place with his shoulder. “You have to meet me halfway. You said you’d pay anything, remember? What’s your problem with the invoice?”

Sangwon tilts his head. He glances over the sheet.

“You charged me twice for baiting the spirit with the dolls.” He says. “But we didn’t even see it the first time, and you fell asleep on the job and I got trapped the second time.”

“Mm.” Kyunghoon grumbles, reluctantly agreeing. “But the services were rendered, whether they worked as intended or not.”

“That’s ridiculous. Isn’t there some kind of guarantee?” Sangwon says, fiddling with his letter opener. “If I call someone to install my fridge, and it doesn’t work after they put it in, they don’t charge me twice to come out and re-install it.”

“Hey, come on. There’s no need to be so stingy.” Kyunghoon complains. “I had to replace most of my infared cameras after that, and technology isn’t cheap. And the amount of talismans and charcoal i used in those rituals... Did you know I have to make those straw dolls by hand?”

“Alright, I get it.” Sangwon says, falling into familiar banter, unable to help himself. Maybe it’s the experience they’d shared, or maybe it’s just the way that Kyunghoon talks and talks to fill the silence, but he feels comfortable around him. As though they’re friends, even though they’re not, exactly. And even if they were, they’d be an odd pair. “I’m a little busy right now, so can you come to my house when you’re free? I’ll give you the address.”

\--

“You really should make a habit of locking your door,” Kyunghoon says from the doorway to his office. 

Sangwon jumps. He jerks away from his glass drawing board, covered in masking tape and papers, the ink from his fountain pen splattering in a thin trail across the sketch. 

“You should have rung the doorbell, or something,” Sangwon says, setting down his pen. “How did you get here so fast?”

“I was in the area,” Kyunghoon says, shrugging. He pushes off the doorway he’s leaning against and sticks his hands in his pockets, ambling up to Sangwon’s desk. His bangs are brushed in front of his forehead, and his long black coat almost brushes the hardwood floor. He looks a little older like this, instead of the disguise he had worn when he had first wormed his way into Sangwon’s house. “A family who moved here from Jeonnan needed a Sssitgim-gut performed to cleanse the spirit of their grandmother after she passed.”

“You do those, too?” Sangwon says.

Kyunghoon smiles. 

“A shaman is a shaman,” he says, producing a snack bar from nowhere that Sangwon recognizes from his pantry and taking a bite. “My costumes are in the car.”

Sangwon stands up. He pushes his chair back and surreptitiously stretches his legs – he vaguely realizes that it’s been all day since he’s stood up, since fetching the mail in the morning, and also that he hasn’t eaten anything since breakfast.

“Are you alright?” Kyunghoon says, oddly observant as ever, still munching. “You should eat properly. It won’t do anyone any good if you collapse.”

“I’m fine,” Sangwon mumbles, even as his stomach growls in discontent. “Do you want tea?”

Kyunghoon purses his lips.

They make their way to the kitchen: Kyunghoon is the overactive type, bustling around the room even without Sangwon’s invitation, picking out a mug for himself and astutely guessing which cup Sangwon uses most often. He sets them both on the counter. Sangwon makes tea, even though he’s accustomed to coffee, because Kyunghoon seems to like tea.

They sit in the living room. Kyunghoon sips his tea. Sangwon passes the yellow envelope back over the table to him, noticeably thicker than before.

“It’s just for the first two charges.” Sangwon says. “I still haven’t agreed to the rest.”

Kyunghoon grins.

“Well, it’s better than nothing,” he says, pocketing the envelope. “Though you should be more grateful to me. Most exorcists would never have let their client enter the underworld themselves.”

“I’m glad you’re so morally unbothered,” Sangwon deadpans.

“What can I say? Your story touched my heart.” Kyunghoon says. He crosses his legs. “How’s Ina doing?”

“She’s fine.” Sangwon replies, oddly relieved that Kyunghoon hadn’t left as soon as he’d received his partial payment. Maybe he really does need to get out more. “I think she’s really recovering this time.”

“She seemed happy enough when I saw her last.” Kyunghoon says, comfortingly empathetic without being overbearing, like a butterfly resting on his shoulder. He sips his tea. “Losing your mom when you’re young is rough, but hopefully she’ll be okay.”  
Sangwon glances at him.

“Do you... have any other family?” He says, unable to help himself. It’s an intrusive question, he knows.

Kyunghoon smiles.

“No,” he says, and doesn’t elaborate further.

\--  
Sangwon’s workload gets even heavier over the next week and a half, if it’s possible. He struggles to balance Ina and his job. The final straw comes when the contracting company explains that they need him to come to the site – now – and stay overnight.  
Getting a nanny is the worst process in the world, he thinks.

His finger hovers over the dial button. It’s presumptuous. He doesn’t even know Kyunghoon that well, and their contact thus far has mostly been business, even if it’s of an unusual kind. Kyunghoon is probably working too. Ina has only met him once.  
But on the other hand...

He’s kind and quick on the uptake. His affable demeanor makes him a hit with kids. Above all, he’s trustworthy.

Sangwon hits the button before he can think.

“What’s up, old man?” Kyunghoon’s already-familiar voice comes down the line.

\--

Sangwon comes home late the next night.

“I’m sorry I’m so late,” he says, tumbling in through the front door, barely kicking off his shoes. “Is everything okay?”

Kyunghoon is sitting on his couch. He’s eating Sangwon’s beer nuts, and drinking out of the same mug he’d used last time. He’s wearing pajamas that don’t look like they’ve been changed out of all day. A red sweater is baggy on his gangly form, and his flannel pants are a little too short, barely brushing the tops of his ankles.

“Oh, hey.” He says, as though this is a completely normal thing.

Sangwon stares.

“Sorry, I ate some of your food.” Kyunghoon continues, seemingly oblivious to the rapid re-evaluation going on in Sangwon’s head. “Ina’s asleep, though.”

Sangwon doesn’t say anything. Kyunghoon seems to take it for discomfort, because he, as emotionally astute as ever, shifts into a sitting position and grabs the remote to shut the TV off. 

“Wait,” Sangwon says, taking a step forward. He doesn’t know what he’s trying to say – he doesn’t even know what he’s feeling – but he’s never been good at communicating.

His wife had been one of the few people who had understood him. He feels a pang of guilt.

Kyunghoon watches him for a moment, then smiles. It’s a strange smile, cheerful and a little fond, and almost sad in the way it curls the corners of his mouth.

“Sit down, then.” He says, patting the couch cushion next to him.

Sangwon sits down. He’s still in his work clothes, dusted with the grime of the construction site. Next to Kyunghoon, it’s almost too easy to relax. The TV blares mindlessly, the colors bright but the volume low, showing some game show with celebrities Sangwon doesn’t recognize.

“It’s a good thing that Ina’s school is so close.” Kyunghoon says, his chattering habit returning, even as the TV fills the silence between them. “I would’ve gotten lost otherwise. But she knows her way around already, even though you’ve only lived here for a couple months.”

“She’s a smart kid.” Sangwon says. He tilts his head to look at Kyunghoon. Kyunghoon is still watching the TV, the flashing lights illuminating his smooth skin and the points of his cheeks. “Sorry for burdening you. Did you have work to do today?”

Kyunghoon shrugs. He glances towards him, then away again. It’s odd that for someone who talks so much, he shies away at the hint of intimacy. Flighty and mysterious. 

“Not really.” He says. “I work freelance, so half of my job is just following the news, looking for stuff that could be supernatural activity.” He cracks a lopsided grin. “My industry is competitive, y’know. Gotta go out and find your own clients.”

“Even for the best exorcist in the business,” Sangwon replies, smiling despite himself. Kyunghoon has a way of lifting his mood, even in the most dire situations.

“So you admit I’m the best.” Kyunghoon says.

“You did help me.” Sangwon admits.

They sit comfortably next to each other. Sangwon thinks there might be something strange going on here, but for once, he doesn’t care.

\--

“Manager Heo,” Ina says the next morning, because she had walked in on both of them asleep on the couch with the TV still mumbling, “when are you coming back?”

“You got her to call you that, too?” Sangwon laughs. He strokes Ina’s hair softly. It feels like she’s gotten even taller, in just the day and a half he’s been away. “Sorry for leaving so suddenly, Ina.”

“It’s okay.” Ina says. “Manager Heo is cooler than you, anyways.”

Kyunghoon laughs at that. He squats down to look at Ina at eye level.

“I’m not always in town,” he says, “but if your daddy ever needs to go to work at night, I’ll come and pick you up from school, alright?”

Sangwon glances at him. 

While Ina is eating cereal, he approaches Kyunghoon.

“I’m sorry –“ he starts, but Kyunghoon stops him.

“I meant it.” He says, watching Ina for a moment, before his gaze slips to Sangwon. “You should spend less time at work, but if things get really urgent, call me.”

Kyunghoon’s hair is mussed from sleep. Something flutters in Sangwon’s chest before he can help himself. He swallows past the lump in his throat.

“Thank you,” he says, instead of anything else.

Kyunghoon smiles at him.

“As long as you don’t mind me raiding your fridge,” he jokes.

\--

A week later, Sangwon drops by Kyunghoon’s office. The address is on his business card. He fidgets – an envelope of cash that happens to be the exact amount that he still owes Kyunghoon burns a hole in his pocket.

He knocks on the door. It’s run down and old, with talismans papered over the door and a tarnished bronze-colored knob. The finish on the old wood is flaking. It suits an exorcist, he thinks, knocking again.

Just when he’s about to leave, and send Kyunghoon a text, the unmistakable sound of Kyunghoon’s off-white beater rolling down the road rumbles through the air.

Sangwon squints in the glare of the headlights. It’s Kyunghoon’s car. There’s the sound of a door slamming, and dragging footsteps over concrete – Sangwon’s eyes adjust to the light, and he sees Kyunghoon’s lanky figure, all but leaning on the hood of the car. He’s clutching his arm.

“Oh,” he says, blood spattered over his face, his grin as bright as ever. “Fancy running into you here.”

“Kyunghoon!” Sangwon says, forgetting himself, grabbing Kyunghoon by the elbow to steady him. “What happened?”

“Exorcism,” Kyunghoon says, as though that explains everything. Blood seeps sluggishly through his black sweatshirt. “Can you grab the key in my pocket?”

Sangwon locks his car, and then unlocks the office door and hustles Kyunghoon inside. He pushes him down on the beat-up couch that seems to serve as a reception area.

“Where’s your first-aid kit?” He says.

Kyunghoon watches him. The blood on his face is more than a little disturbing, making his complexion seem even paler than it is. 

“Bathroom, behind the mirror,” he says, after a moment, sitting up to peel his sweatshirt off. He glances over it as Sangwon fetches the first-aid kit. “Man, I really liked this shirt, too.”

Sangwon drenches a gauze pad with hydrogen peroxide and presses it to Kyunghoon’s arm. The gash is four inches in length but shallow, and bleeding thickly. Kyunghoon hisses, and Sangwon’s fingers falter.

“Does it hurt?” He says.

“It’s fine,” Kyunghoon says.

“You can say it hurts, you know.” Sangwon says, frowning.

Kyunghoon’s smile is ragged through the pain.

“Okay, it does hurt, but I’m used to it.” He says. “Spirits with grudges and telekinesis are a nasty combination.” He sees Sangwon reaching for a cloth bandage, and waves a hand. “No, leave it, I’m going to take a shower anyways. I’ll bandage it after that.”

“Are you sure?” Sangwon says, worried.

Kyunghoon laughs.

“When you act like that, you can really tell that you’re a father,” he says, wiping off his wound with the last of the gauze. The bleeding has mostly stopped. “I’ll be fine. Give me a minute to wash up.”

Sangwon sits in the office as the sound of water trickles through the pipes upstairs. He wonders if Kyunghoon sings in the shower. He wanders around the room, eyes drifting over the various devices and knick knacks that line the walls of the room. He recognizes some of them. Oscilloscopes, CRTs, boxes of talismans, infared cameras...

“So, did you need something from me?” Kyunghoon says, towelling off his hair. He’s changed into sweatpants and a white t-shirt. The cut on his arm is a vivid red against his skin.

“Forget that.” Sangwon says. “Sit down, you need a bandage.”

“Is Ina alright at home by herself?” Kyunghoon says, seeming to have gotten some of his energy back after a shower.

“She’s staying with a friend tonight.” Sangwon says, indulging his chatter distractedly as he wipes the wound down with peroxide again. “She’s been begging me to let her have a sleepover for weeks.”

“Well, as long as there’s no spirits in the house, it should be fine.” Kyunghoon says. Sangwon’s fingers are surprisingly gentle against his skin. Black ink winds along the pale skin of his forearms – protective charms against spirits etched into his body. Sangwon almost touches them. “Kids who are exposed to spirits at a young age usually end up being more vulnerable to them later on.”

Sangwon looks up.

“Really?” He says.

“Yeah.” Kyunghoon says, wiggling his fingers. “That’s how some people become shamans, y’know. You can be born into it, but some kids get possessed when they’re young and end up being able to see spirits. I gave her an anti-possession bracelet last time I saw her. It should protect her as long as she wears it.”

Sangwon’s hands still on Kyunghoon’s arm.

“Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t thank me, it’s like a freebie.” Kyunghoon replies. 

Sangwon wraps the bandage around Kyunghoon’s bicep. He smooths the edges down with his fingers, his touch lingering a moment too long.

“Sangwon –“ Kyunghoon starts, but Sangwon pulls him into a hug before he can say anything.

He’s not into physical affection. It’s unlike him. Kyunghoon makes a surprised noise over his shoulder, and Sangwon slides his hand along his shoulder blade, glad that he can hide his expression. He has no idea what face he’s making now.

\--

He wraps up Kyunghoon’s wound, then goes down the street to buy tteokbokki for him, and then leaves him to rest. It’s not until Sangwon is in his car driving home that he remembers the envelope of cash in his pocket.

\--

“This is a nice restaurant,” Kyunghoon says, twisting around in his chair. If he weren’t so hyper, he would fit right in. His long coat and burgundy turtleneck and block-trendy hairstyle blend right in with the elegant decor. “What’s the occasion?”

Sangwon is wearing a blazer. It’s not exactly dressed up, but nicer than the knits and heathered fabrics he prefers. 

“You haven’t asked me to pay you in a while,” he says, because he’s about as subtle as a sledgehammer.

Kyunghoon raises his eyebrows.

“Are you buying, then?” He chuckles, spinning a fork between two fingers.

“Why not?” Sangwon says.

“Huh?” Kyunghoon says. “Oh, the payment?”

He purses his lips. It’s uncharacteristic of him, being silent. Sangwon’s fingers tap slowly against the armrest of his chair.

“I figured it’d be tacky, to ask for payment between friends.” Kyunghoon finally says, as though he’s not sure if he’s crossing a line just by saying they’re on friendly terms. His eyes flick to Sangwon’s face and away and back again. There’s the tone of a fib in his voice – not a lie, but not the whole truth.

“Is that it?” Sangwon says, his heart beating in his chest, nearly as fast as when he’d sprinted out of that ghostly forest with Ina in his arms.

Kyunghoon laughs. He gives up easily, as if it’s a secret that he’d known he would tell Sangwon as soon as he’d asked.

“I didn’t want you to stop calling me.” He says. A wry grin spreads across his lips. His long legs are crossed under the table. He fiddles with the edge of the tablecloth between two fingers, finally making proper eye contact with Sangwon. “Pathetic, right?”

Sangwon swallows. He doesn’t know what he’d hoped to hear, but from the way his chest is swelling with things that he’d struggle to express, it had been something like that.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope. He slides it over the table to Kyunghoon.

Kyunghoon looks at it. From the size and the thickness, anyone could tell that it’s money. Kyunghoon’s gaze lingers on it.

“I...” Sangwon says, swallowing. “Well, I’ll always be grateful for what you did for me.”

Kyunghoon glances at him. For someone who’s recieved a giant wad of money, he doesn’t seem very happy.

“Okay,” he says.

“But it wasn’t sitting right with me.” Sangwon continues, sounding worried. “I mean, not paying you in full, even though you saved us. Me and Ina. So I thought I should settle my debts before I went any further.”

Kyunghoon’s eyebrows jump up his forehead.

“Further?” He says.

“Is that odd?” Sangwon says, internally despairing that he’s spilled his guts before their food has even been brought to the table. Even when he’d dated his late wife, she had been the one to confess to him first. He’s not very good at this kind of thing. “Sorry. I’m not sure how to do this.”

“Just to be clear,” Kyunghoon says, “you’re saying you want to...? You and me?”

He makes a vague pointing gesture between them with his hands. Sangwon almost laughs. Two grown adults, and they’re making a mess of the conversation.

“I think so,” he says. “Do you...?”

Kyunghoon smiles again. His dejected expression from earlier melts away.

“I think I could do that.” He says. “You’re not so bad for an old man.”

\--

Sangwon learns a lot about Kyunghoon in the following few weeks.

He learns that he likes to stay up late. He learns that he’s fluent in Latin, even though he doesn’t do Christian exorcisms. 

He learns that he has a winding curl of burn scars along his spine – an exorcism gone wrong, Kyunghoon tells him, and doesn’t elaborate – and that he’s fastidious about setting daily offerings at his parents’ small shrine. 

He learns that he’s perfectly content with being “uncle” to Ina.

Sangwon occasionally has nightmares about the half hour he’d spent in the realm of the dead. That pale, ghostlike mist envelops his dreams, and he stumbles through the damp forest for hours, screaming his voice hoarse, looking for Ina. The strains of violin weaving through the trees only taunt him.

“Sangwon,” says a voice. It sounds so familiar. It sounds like the beating of drums. “Sangwon. Wake up.”

He opens his eyes.

“Kyunghoon,” he says, the name on the trailing edge of a gasp as his consciousness crystallizes back into reality.

Kyunghoon likes to come and go as he pleases, sometimes sleeping in his own bed and sometimes in Sangwon’s, and sometimes in a motel far away from their city, in a town where he has a job to do. But tonight, he’s in Sangwon’s apartment.

“Mm.” Kyunghoon says. It’s dark – the sun isn’t up – Kyunghoon is laying on his side, his hair falling into his eyes, peering sleepily at him. “Bad dream?”

Sangwon exhales.

“It must seem stupid to you.” He says, in a low voice that’s almost a whisper. He doesn’t dare to break the sanctity of the almost-night by speaking aloud. “I only did it once.”

“Once is enough.” Kyunghoon says, shuffling into a more comfortable position, laying his head on his bicep, sinking into the pillows. “And most people never go into the realm of the dead.”

“And you do this for a living.” Sangwon murmurs.

“I’m used to it.” Kyunghoon says, a note of his usual wry humor slipping into his voice. “You can’t handle my job, just like I don’t have a clue about how to build a house.”

Sangwon chuckles despite himself.

“That’s different.” He says, even though it’s not really.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Thanks,” Sangwon says, “For bringing me back,” and he’s not sure if he’s talking about reality or the dream.

“Hmm?” Kyunghoon mumbles, already drifting back to sleep. “It’s all part of the service.”

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: .. i wrote way more than i planned.. and i kinda went off from the original premise.. but im soft for them DJSLDKFJSDKFJ
> 
> twitter serpentinej


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